


left that room with no goodbye

by sunburst_city



Series: It's only a Crime if I Get Caught [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is an art forger, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crime, Bokuto is a hitman, Crime!AU, Karasuno is a courier service/body disposal unit, M/M, just not in this fic, the other characters are in this AU too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:27:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7188911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunburst_city/pseuds/sunburst_city
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re right. I’m not.” The sound of a muffled gunshot pops, and Keiji watches through the mirror as the man slumps. “But he is.”<br/>Or: Keiji is not having any of your shitty assassination attempts<br/>Or: The BokuAka part of a Crime!AU that will definitely get out of hand</p>
            </blockquote>





	left that room with no goodbye

“Oya?”

Keiji spots the man creeping behind him through the compact mirror he keeps at the corner of his easel. The man is of average build, dressed in nondescript clothing: a tan jacket over a plain black shirt and jeans. The only thing strange about him (well, apart from the fact that he’s a stranger standing in Keiji’s apartment at two in the morning) is the mask covering the lower half of his face and the gun in his hand, pointed directly at Keiji.

Keiji turns his head in acknowledgment, but keeps his back to the man.

“Can I help you?”

“Don’t scream.”

The man’s voice wobbles. From what little Keiji can see on his compact mirror, the man’s shoulders are stiff. _Tension, irritation_. Things don’t seem to be going as the man planned. He probably meant to kill Keiji while the latter was sleeping, but–lucky him–managed to catch Keiji during a late-night painting spree instead. It’s a little anticlimactic now, since Keiji is wide awake and all the lights in his studio are on. Honestly, it’s kind of sad; without the presence of dramatic shadows, the entire scenario feels more ‘dumb 80’s spy movie’ than 'high-stakes action thriller.’

Some part of Keiji wonders what this life has done to him, if those are his only thoughts when faced with his would-be assassin at gunpoint.

Keiji faces forward, puts his brush and palette down at the small wooden table beside his easel. Covertly, he runs his fingertips along a nondescript indent on the table’s surface and presses down, activating a silent alarm. Once he does, he slowly raises his arms in a gesture of surrender.

“You don’t want to do this.” Keiji says, watching the man’s reflection as he waves his gun around, finger still on the trigger. He bites back a grimace. _Untrained_.

“Actually, I do. This is the easiest hundred-twenty-K I’ve ever gotten. I wasn’t counting on you being awake, but whatever. You’re still done for.” The man says.

“You’ll be dead before you can even pull that trigger.”

The man snorts. “Which one of us actually has the gun, pretty boy? You can’t do shit to me from where you’re standing. Besides, the boss already told me you’re all talk and no bite. You’re an art forger, not a killer.”

_Boss_. This is a hired hit.

Figuring he’s gotten all he can without being obvious, Keiji abandons talking to the man in favor of taking stock of everything near him. A stray chisel is within arm’s reach; Keiji can throw that at the man to disorient him. That should theoretically give Keiji enough time to pull the mirror from the easel and incapacitate him with it; the edges of the mirror are sharp enough to—

Something moves in the mirror. It was only a flash but it’s enough to make Keiji relax. He moves his shoulders in a slow shrug.

“You’re right; I’m not a killer.”

Before he can say anything else, there’s a muffled gunshot. Keiji watches from the mirror as the man crumples forward, falling face first onto the hardwood floor, revealing a set of intense gold eyes behind him.

“But he is.” Keiji finishes, turning around to face them.

“You alright, Keiji?”

“I’m fine, Bokuto-san.”

Koutarou lowers his gun. He steps forward and nudges the man’s ribs with his bare toes.

“Dead.” He announces. Keiji suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Of course the man is dead; that was a clean shot to the base of his skull, pulled by a highly-trained hitman wielding his favorite gun. “Seriously dead, he didn’t even realize he got shot.”

He steps over the corpse, deceptively casual as he saunters over towards Keiji, keeping a careful eye on the open window of the studio. He only has a pair of sweatpants on. Keiji can see the way the muscles on his upper body are coiled, ready to react and shoot at any given notice. He probably headed straight for Keiji’s studio the moment he woke up from Keiji’s alarm. Keiji is suddenly thankful that he and his friends are collectively the most paranoid bunch of people he knows. If Kenma hadn’t installed the the alarm system and linked it to a home-brewed application in all their phones, things would’ve gotten much messier.

Though, that isn’t to say that it isn’t already messy now. Blood slowly trickles out of the corpse, staining the floor. Koutarou peers closer at the corpse’s face.

“Hmm, doesn’t look familiar to me.” He pokes the guy’s right temple with the barrel of his gun. Notable scarring, tattoo behind the ear; Keiji should remember those.

“He’s a hired hit.” Keiji says in reply.

Koutarou smacks his lips as he straightens. “I heard. You think it’s by one of your clients?”

That’s probable, since the man came after Keiji and not Koutarou. Not many people knew about Koutarou’s attachment to Keiji, and the people who do know are either on their side, or smart enough not to hurt Keiji to get to Koutarou. Besides, the ones who have the most right to hold a grudge against Koutarou are all dead. It’s more likely that the hitman was hired by one of Keiji’s clients.

Then again, Keiji’s clients have a strict nondisclosure agreement upon commissioning; they are not to disclose anything about Keiji–his alias, how he looks, where they meet–to anyone, lest they want their dirtiest secrets broadcasted to the entire world in the most public ways possible. There were a few instances when he first began his trade where his clients just scoffed at him, thinking that their status as the rich elite is enough to protect them. Now, Keiji knows to lay his cards on the table first, to show his clients exactly what he knows about them. And with his source being _apl_pi_ , Keiji is sure that every bit of information he gets is 100% accurate, even if some of the things he finds out are downright disturbing.

Anyway, the point is, Keiji hasn’t had a client turn on him in a while, since they all greatly value their reputation. It must’ve been someone else, then; a rival forger who lost clients to Keiji, maybe. He’s had a few of those threaten him before. One of them must’ve forced his client to divulge information.

There is also the issue of the hitman himself. The man was sloppy, careless enough to let himself be seen in the mirror and alert Keiji of his presence. He panicked when Keiji wasn’t asleep. Even worse, he engaged Keiji in conversation, letting Keiji buy enough time for Koutarou to shoot him. Coupled with the fact that he was only paid 120,000 yen (not even a tenth of what Keiji’s forgeries sell for), and Keiji knows this man wasn’t a high-calibre hitman. Hell, he wasn’t even a decent one. Certainly nowhere near Koutarou’s level.

Admittedly, Keiji is a little insulted. He isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth–especially not when it kept him alive–but he figures he’s worth more effort and money than a random, two-bit thug from the streets who knows where to get a silencer.

A two-bit thug that they now had to get rid of. Keiji knows Koutarou has some equipment in the apartment, so destroying any evidence the hitman could leave behind won’t be a problem. Their real problem is the body.

“Call Tsukishima.” He tells Koutarou. Karasuno can take care of the body and make sure it can’t be traced to them.

Koutarou nods and takes his phone from his sleep pants. While he talks to Tsukishima on the phone, Keiji grabs a loose scrap of paper and a pen, and begins to make a sketch of the hitman’s face to bring to Kenma tomorrow. He just needs to get the basics down before Karasuno comes and takes the body away. He can fill in the rest of the details later.

“He, Chibi-chan, and Freckles should be here in a few minutes.” Bokuto says when he hangs up. “I also texted Kuroo.”

Keiji nodded. Kuroo will let Kenma know the alarm has been neutralized and that Keiji and Koutarou are fine. “We can go to Nekoma and ask Kenma if he can find out anything about this guy or the hit.” He said. If there’s anybody who can dig up that kind of dirt, it would be Kenma.

“We bouncin’ now?” Koutarou asks. Keiji shakes his head.

“That shouldn’t be necessary. This guy was working alone.” Chances are that whoever hired this guy is too cheap to hire more than one person, anyway. 

“Besides,” He continues, and at this, Keiji’s lips curve into a smile, “You’d never let harm come to me, would you?”

Koutarou grins, bright and surprisingly innocent, considering that it’s on a professional assassin’s face. His genuine cheerfulness is one of the things Keiji loves about him.

“You bet!” He tucks the gun into the band of his sleep pants and holds out his hand. “Now, are you coming back to bed or not? It’s freezing in here.”

“Nobody told you to come in here shirtless.”

Koutarou shoots a pointed look at Keiji’s torso and– oh, right. Keiji stole Koutarou’s shirt when he left the bed earlier that evening.

“Just let me finish this.” Keiji waves the paper with the hitman’s profile on it. “We need to wait up for Tsukishima anyway.”

The next twenty or so minutes involve Keiji and Koutarou sitting on the studio floor, right next to the dead body. Koutarou went into their bedroom to get a warm blanket to wrap around both of them, and now, he has his chin hooked over Keiji’s shoulder, watching as Keiji sketches a near replica of the hitman’s face. Koutarou’s gun sits beside him, ready to be picked up at a moment’s notice. The entire scene is really domestic and a bit macabre; Keiji wouldn’t have it any other way.

Keiji finishes sketching just as Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and Hinata show up to their apartment. Tsukishima looks even more irate than usual, but that might just be because he’s stuck on shift with Hinata, who is way too chipper while disposing bodies at three in the morning.

They work quickly to take the body away. Koutarou helps Tsukishima and Hinata haul the corpse off into the van, chattering happily with the two. Meanwhile, Yamaguchi starts cleaning the floor of the studio. Keiji kneels down to help, asking Yamaguchi how everyone is doing in Karasuno. Before long, the studio is spotless, baring no trace that a murder happened less than an hour ago.

“Well, this was fun.” Tsukishima says in a bored tone as Yamaguchi starts the van. “Let’s never do this again.”

“You won’t hear me complain.” Keiji slips him a bundle of cash–their payment for the body. “Thanks. Stay safe, Tsukishima-kun.”

“You too, Akaashi-san.” This time, Tsukishima’s tone isn’t as bland. Even if his expression barely shifts, Keiji can pick out the concern in his tone.

The van has barely disappeared into the corner and Koutarou is already herding Keiji into the apartment and to their bedroom. Keiji crawls into bed, shedding Koutarou’s shirt from his torso as he goes. Koutarou is a perpetual furnace of body heat; Keiji would likely suffocate if he doesn’t shed a layer. Koutarou leaves the bedroom for a minute and comes back with the blanket he brought into Keiji’s studio, along with his gun. Knowing him, he’s probably done one last sweep of the area to make sure they won’t get any more unwelcome visitors.

Keiji opens his arms. Koutarou grins brightly and all but bounds onto the bed, sliding his gun onto the bedside table before draping his limbs all over Keiji, letting his head rest atop Keiji’s chest. By the time Keiji settles in, Koutarou is already lightly snoring. Keiji’s sigh is exasperated but fond, and he quickly follows Koutarou into slumber.

They’ve got work to do tomorrow.


End file.
